The morning shrugs loose
From the pre-dawn...
Slants into the room on a
Free, sunlight slide...
Warms the rooms, with
No 'please, may I', or
'Can I come in? '
Morning knows it is a
Timed shine...a too-short
While, of coffee, waking.
But, when morning leaves,
It warns the Noontime
To be just as nice...
Because Morning will be
Back...
And, the rest of the day
And Night know that.
Morning has clout....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I needed some morning clout, your poem this morning, brought it out! *10 *! ! ! ! Thanks Elysabeth! Thad